Dance With The Devil
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: One look from you, and I would fall from grace.


Another Fail Safe postep! The summary is borrowed from the Asia song, Heat Of The Moment. I'm toying with a possible sequel for this, but I haven't made up my mind. LOL. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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From the moment Michael Westen watched Fiona Glenanne disappear into the federal building, surrounded by half a dozen men with guns, he knew he had to get her out of there. He just didn't know how.

So with her letter in his pocket and her words ringing in his ears, he turned around and left the parking lot. His heart broke into smaller pieces with each step he took. But he had a job to do.

He had to get Fiona the hell out of there.

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A week later, with some help from Agent Pearce and a few threats to some old associates, he was being led through the building where he was told Fiona was being held. It was dark and almost suffocating, leaving him breathless and crawling out of his skin. He had to get Fiona out of this…this place.

The government official walking alongside Michael was silent, but Michael could practically read his mind as they walked.

Traitor. Traitor.

Finally they came to a stop in front of a door, and as it was opened, Michael couldn't help inhaling sharply. There she was, in front of him and very much alive. Suddenly he wondered how he could have spent a minute away from her, let alone an entire week.

She had always been a tiny woman, but now, she looked unhealthy. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her face was scrubbed clean of any makeup, leaving her looking exposed and almost afraid.

"You have an hour." The door slammed shut.

Just a few seconds after the door was shut, Fiona felt as though a train had run into her when Michael grabbed her and snatched her up into his arms. She had managed to keep herself composed, but now that she was back in her arms… She buried her face in his shoulder and trembled.

"I've got you, Fi." Holding her so close, he was pummeled with the instinct to just run with her and kill anyone who got in their way. But he couldn't, and that killed him. So he held her tighter and tried to breathe normally.

Her arms were free, and she wrapped them tightly around his neck. She had done the right thing, that much she was certain. Turning herself in had prevented Michael from compromising his own beliefs and changing from the man she was so madly in love with. She couldn't let him do that, not even for her.

Resting his chin on the top of her head, he closed his eyes and tried not to focus on their surroundings, on the situation they were caught up in. The situation he had unfairly entangled her in. For a while, he would have her in his arms. And when he left, he would walk straight into the meeting with the one person he was halfway convinced could help.

Their bodies swayed slightly as they clung to each other with a savage desperation in that tiny room. Not another word was spoken. They'd already said what needed to be said before she turned herself in.

For the moment, there was nothing else they could say.

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The hour was up too soon, and it nearly killed Michael to leave her alone in that room. But he didn't have a choice. He had to focus on what he could do, if he was to avoid driving himself crazy. So he left the building, knowing damn well that he was leaving his heart behind as well.

An hour later, Michael arrived at his meeting almost fifteen minutes early. He took a seat at one of the tables overlooking the nearby pool, and his thoughts were consumed by Fiona's haunted face.

"Hey, kid."

Michael jerked out of his thoughts and looked up at the familiar face. "Larry."

Larry Sizemore grinned and sat down at the table with the younger man. "Let me guess… You called me to set up a meeting because Fiona's in prison, right?"

Michael's lip twitched, but nothing else gave away the intense emotions that roiled under his skin. "Something like that."

"Not something like that. That's it exactly."

"Fine." Michael produced a file and handed it to Larry. "I know you, Larry, and I know what kind of pull you have. I know the kind of company you keep, and I know exactly what you're capable of."

Larry looked amused. "I suppose you do, kid. And what are you expecting me to be capable of?" He opened the file and began rifling through the papers.

Leaning forward in his seat, Michael removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his breast pocket.

"Taking off your sunglasses… This is pretty serious."

"It's very serious." To him, it was a matter of life and death. "You're going to help me get what I need to get Fiona out of prison."

Larry arched a dark eyebrow. "I am, am I? What makes you so sure?"

Michael just smiled.

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Fiona was sitting in the dank cell, slowly going out of her mind.

She had been in there for almost a full month, and she was slowly dying. She had only seen Michael twice in that entire time, and the second time, he was distracted to say the least. If there were any other prisoners in here, she was being kept separate from them. The only human contact she had was with the guards, and they were arrogant sons of bitches.

Her hands trembled as she stared at the wall in front of her. She was going to die in here, that much she knew. At least she had protected Michael the best (and really only) way she knew how. That was her one saving grace, if she had one.

The door suddenly swung open, and Fiona stiffened, unsure of what was going on.

The guard regarded her coldly. "Stand up."

Slowly she stood, any fight that was left in her already having bled out.

Crossing the floor, the guard took her by the arm and led her out of the room.

"Where are you taking me?" Fiona suddenly demanded, struggling to keep an indifferent expression on her face.

"The charges against you have been dropped, Ms. Glenanne. You're leaving our facility."

Fiona almost stopped, but the guard kept pulling her along. Charges were dropped…? Leaving…?

Doors were swung open, and Fiona's eyes watered as sunlight hit her skin for the first time in a month. The shackles were removed from her wrists and ankles.

"You're free to go, with the government's sincerest apologies." He turned around and went back into the building.

For a moment, she stood there, shocked and not quite knowing what to do. A voice at the back of her mind whispered that Michael had something to do with this, but until she saw him, she wouldn't know.

"Fiona!"

She turned her head in time to see Michael charge up the steps. Her feet remained rooted to the ground, but her heart was ready to explode in her chest.

He stopped inches away from her, as though he didn't trust his eyesight.

Then, disregarding everything else, he threw his arms around her and held her so tight, she thought he might crush her.

"How?" she whispered against his chest when she finally found her voice.

"Anson's gone," he said coldly, running his hand up and down her back. "Pearce helped me get you out of there."

"She did?"

"Yes." Pulling back slightly, he met her eyes. He had felt just how tiny she was in his arms, and he was going to remedy that. "I'm going to take you home, and you're going to get a shower and something to eat."

Fiona was caught off guard by the tone he used, but she could see the pain and regret hiding in his eyes. It was his way of dealing, so she let him take her by the hand and lead her down to the Charger.

The ride passed in silence, and when they got to the loft, Fiona took her time walking inside and looking around. Nothing had changed, except for the numerous covered dishes on the kitchen island and, to her surprise, a brand new refrigerator in the kitchen. She looked at Michael, but his back was to her as he made his way to their bed.

Tearing her eyes away from him, she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There were bottles of beer and cups of yogurt. She smiled. Some things never change. Closing the door, Fiona kicked her shoes off and went into the bathroom, leaving the door opened slightly behind her. She turned the faucet on, then quickly peeled off the clothes she was wearing. As she passed the mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself and winced.

Her skin was unnaturally pale, and she had lost a considerable amount of weight, weight that she didn't need to lose. Her hair hung limply, framing her face and giving her a haunted look.

Quickly averting her eyes, Fiona stepped into the shower and reached for her body wash.

Michael sat on the bed for a while, listening to the shower run. It was still sinking in that he'd actually succeeded in getting her out, and suddenly he had to see her. He stripped himself of his clothes, then edged into the bathroom. "Fi…?"

He heard a strange noise from the shower, and his brow furrowed. His heart lurched as he pulled the shower curtain back. "Fiona…"

She was scrubbing at her skin ruthlessly, leaving her flesh red. When she realized he was standing there, a soft whimper escaped her lips. "I didn't… I can't…"

"Fiona…" He stepped into the shower with her, pulling the curtain behind himself. Then he gently took the washcloth from her shaking hands and set it aside. "You're home now, Fiona," he murmured, taking her face into his calloused hands. "You're with me."

Her eyes slid shut, and she was surprised when his hands briefly left her face. She drew her lip between her teeth.

"It's okay, Fiona." He grabbed her favorite shampoo and poured a generous amount into his hand. Then he moved his hands into her hair, and his fingers gently worked through her damp hair.

"What are you doing, Michael?" she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Washing your hair." Once he was satisfied, he gently and carefully rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Then he grabbed her body wash, the one that smelled of lilacs and lavender, and he poured the sweet smelling liquid onto a clean washcloth. Taking her arm, he gently extended it and ran the washcloth over her skin.

As he began to wash every inch of her skin, Fiona felt tears form in her eyes. He had never been so gentle with her, mostly because she hadn't allowed it. She thrived on chaos and violence, whereas he thrived on stability and tenderness in the confines of their home. Now that tenderness and affection was shining through.

He had just reached her abdomen when her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. His eyes locked with hers, silently asking if she was okay. Her fingers curled tightly around his wrist.

"I need you, Michael," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the running water. Her free hand reached out and touched him gently.

He inhaled deeply, almost regretting it as he gently brushed her hand away.

For a wild moment, she was terrified that he didn't want her. Fear washed over her, and he seemed to sense that. He lowered his head and kissed her forehead softly.

"Shower first," he whispered against his skin. Once he was done with her, she would be more than ready for him. And he would show her just how she made him feel, just how badly he had missed her in the past month.

Reluctantly she returned her hands to her sides.

By the time he was finished, the water had cooled considerably. He drew the shower curtain back and stepped out first, retrieving two large, fluffy towels from under the sink. He wrapped one around his waist, and the other around her tiny frame. She started to step out of the shower, but before she could, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the bathroom.

Placing her gently on the bed, he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her cheek. "I missed you so much, Fiona." He rested his cheek lightly against hers and closed his eyes.

"I missed you, too, Michael." She tried to kiss him, but he ducked and slowly opened her towel, revealing her body to him again.

She watched as he lowered his head and placed a kiss on her warm, damp skin. "Michael…"

"Shh, Fi…" he whispered against her skin. "Everything's okay…" He had her now. Everything was once again right in his world. Anson was dead, and his evil could never threaten her again.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his towel hit the floor. It had only been a month, but for her, for them, it was more like a lifetime. And he was determined to make up for lost time.

His hand ran along the inside of her thigh, and he watched her expression with fascination as he touched her. He had cared about other women in his life, but he had never loved a woman like he loved her.

When his hand moved further, she suddenly sat up and moved into his lap. Any distance between them was too much, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

His arms went around her without hesitation. He brushed her damp hair back and kissed the sweet skin of her neck. "I need you, Fiona."

She nodded, holding him tighter. She understood that need completely. He moved his hips, and her body reacted to his, just as it always did. Their lips came crashing together, and as they slowly moved together, he found himself whispering into her ear.

"Marry me."

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Fiona awoke with a start, and for a split second, her mind couldn't register her surroundings. She slowly relaxed as she felt Michael's arms tighten around her, and she let out a slow, steadying breath.

"You okay?" he whispered against the back of her neck.

She nodded, running her hand over his arm where it was wrapped tightly around her middle. "I'm okay."

"We should get up soon. Everyone wants to see you." There was a reason he had picked her up alone and taken her straight to their loft. He wanted to welcome her home properly before everyone else and his mother showed up. He pressed himself against her back and nuzzled her neck.

A soft smile curved her lips. "How long can we put everyone off?"

"A day, maybe. My mom's already called twice."

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Because I turned it off."

That surprised her, and she turned over in his arms. "You turned off your phone?" She couldn't recall him ever turning off his phone for an extended period of time, ever.

He ran his thumb along her jaw line. "Fi, you just got out of prison. Everything else can wait."

"Everything?"

"Absolutely." He rested his forehead against hers. "You need to eat something. I can cook for you, or we can order in."

"You never cook for me," she marveled.

He chuckled and kissed her sweetly before slowly pulling away. "You are the only woman I'd cook for, Fiona." He sat upright, then reached into the pocket of the jeans he'd shed earlier.

She rolled onto her back and stretched her weary body. "Is that a fact, Michael?"

"It is." He found what he was looking for, then returned to her side, where he belonged. "There's one more thing I'd only do for you."

"What's that?"

He gently picked up her left hand and slipped the Asscher cut diamond ring onto her slender finger. Then he kissed her knuckles.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the engagement ring. When he proposed, a part of her had thought that he said it in the heat of the moment. She had never been so happy to be wrong.

Leaning over, he captured her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. Then he kissed her forehead before he slipped out of the bed. "What would you like to eat, Fi?"

She turned onto her side so she could watch him walk across the floor. A pout formed on her lips as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on.

He turned and laughed softly at the pout on her beautiful face. "I'll take them off after I get done cooking," he promised.

"You better." She sat up in the bed, not bothering to cover herself up.

Winking at her, he padded into the kitchen.

An hour later, they sat in the bed with their dinner. Fiona was pressed against Michael's side, and they ate in comfortable silence. The loft was quiet, and it was as though they were in their own little world, where nothing could touch them.

Fiona set her nearly empty plate aside when she was done. Then she rested her head on Michael's shoulder and closed her eyes.

He absently kissed her head. "Fi?"

"Hmm?"

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." And he couldn't believe he hadn't said that before. He'd had five years to come to his senses, but it had taken Fiona being ripped from him for him to finally admit it to himself, and to her.

She smiled and slid her arm around his waist. Exhaustion was creeping over her, and she was reminded of just how little sleep she had gotten in that godforsaken place. Then again, since she had started sleeping with Michael regularly, she found it nearly impossible to sleep without him.

Michael set his own plate aside, then stretched out in the bed. "Come here…" He pulled Fiona against his chest and ran his hands up and down her back. "Close your eyes." He gently kissed her temple, then pulled a sheet over their tangled limbs.

Fiona snuggled into his chest and yawned deeply. "Summer," she whispered sleepily.

"Summer what, Fi?"

"Summer wedding." She yawned, nearly asleep.

Michael chuckled, but the thought of Fiona in a wedding dress, barefoot on the beach, captured his heart. "Whatever you want, Fiona. Whatever you want." He would do anything to make her happy.

A happy sigh escaped her, and within moments she was asleep on his chest.

He stayed awake, and for a while, he simply held her and gently stroked her hair as she slept.

As long as he was alive, he was going to protect her. She was his, and he wasn't going to let her down. Not again.

"Sweet dreams, Fi."

The End.

A/N: Like I said, there might be a sequel to this. I really think that Michael might have to call in a lot of favors from some less than savory characters to get Fi out. We'll see in June. *sigh* Thanks for reading, and please review!


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